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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825400">Under the New York Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriana95/pseuds/siriana95'>siriana95</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hadrian's Sword and Ivy Wall [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>CSI: NY, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Sentinel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Sentinels &amp; Guides, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Multi, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:55:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27825400</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriana95/pseuds/siriana95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The war finally ended. And when the dust settled, the Potters and their Pride chose to relocate, to build a life of peace and anonymity without forgoing the responsibilities forged during one of the bloodiest wizarding wars in recent history. An old inherited Potter house nestled in the New York enclave seemed the perfect choice for these tired warriors to find new purposes and to start their families. </p>
<p>However, Potters were never meant to obscurity and quiet lives. Ivy, in true Potter fashion, stumbles upon her new adventure, which has prospects of great joy or immense despair. And a new crusade may be rising on the horizon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daphne Greengrass/Harry Potter, Don Flack/Mac Taylor, Don Flack/Mac Taylor/Ivy Potter, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Theodore Nott, Susan Bones/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hadrian's Sword and Ivy Wall [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Two Many Guides</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a cloudy New York day and there was a young woman’s body lying on a cold autopsy slab. Bitter coffee still lingered on his tongue (his Guide will lecture him again next time they cross paths). The frenzy of a busy Lab in form of the Techs’ efficient movements and of the beeping of the machines sang in his ears.</p>
<p>All was right and normal in Mac Taylor’s domain.</p>
<p>The Sentinel considered the Lab <strong>his</strong> on a fundamental level, beyond petty politics and mundane hierarchies. Its people, from the janitor to the more senior Lab tech, were his responsibility. Their health, safety and good work conditions were subjects ingrained in his brain and were considered in almost every decision he took. The ethical and scientific quality of the work produced on the Lab was also felt heavily on his shoulders.</p>
<p>(Several times, Don teased him about his territorialness. Once, his Guide gifted him a framed photograph of the empty Lab from the perspective of his office. That gag gift quickly became one of his prised possessions. On the lovingly carved wooden frame was engraved, in loopy letters, ‘This is all mine’, embraced by a roaring Lion. His spirit guide, Aslan, certainly appreciated the inclusion. The revealing of his Guide’s less-known hobby of wood carving was also quietly cherished and viciously stored away.)</p>
<p>The truth is, Mac was a Sentinel very much connected to his territory. That characteristic, despite most mundanes’ misconceptions, was not universal to all sentinels. And the definition of the territory also varied, between land, places, objects and people. Mac felt the Lab in his bones and blood. (Sometimes, he privately admitted to himself, he even felt a smidgen of kingliness to the shiny machines that littered the labs.) This possessive feeling was almost like a living thing, lounging and rattling in his chest beneath his ribs. It would be with extreme difficulty that Mac could live anywhere else besides New York. It was certainly a relief that his Guide, born and bred New Yorker, also never seemed to consider the possibility of leaving. Quite frankly, one could take Don Flack quicker out of New York than take New York out of his heart.</p>
<p>While waiting for new developments on the case, he tiredly tried to empty his desk of paperwork. Maybe Stella would stop giving him the evil eye for a while every time she entered his office. The smoky sky shown by his windows and the faint thrumming of the bond with his Guide gave him a sense of peace and serenity. A feeling that he had never again took for granted since the Towers fell.</p>
<p>The first sign that that day was verging away from the organized ordinary chaos was on the autopsy briefing.</p>
<p>“Sarah Knowles, 22 years old, student in NYU, majoring in Biochemistry.” Presented Sheldon, while adjusting the covering sheet.</p>
<p>“Smart kid.” Commented Stella. “Have the parents come to ID the body?”</p>
<p>“No, it was her roommate that identified the body. The parents died when she was 18 on a car accident, the only close relative is a younger brother, who is in foster care. I believe Don is tracking him down...”</p>
<p>“So, what do we have Sheldon?” inquired Mac.</p>
<p>“A sound beating.” He breathed heavily. “We can see abrasions on the legs and arms, bruised knuckles and torn fingertips, consistent with a struggle. The sprained ankle and three cracked ribs would have certainly made it difficult to run if she had managed to get out of their hold.”</p>
<p>“Was there any evidence of sexual assault?” questioned Stella.</p>
<p>“Yes. But no traces were left behind for DNA search. Here we can see…”</p>
<p>Mac was listening intently to the recitation, but something started pulling at his concentration. The air started to feel heavy and constricted. At his side, Aslan faintly rumbled worried notes. Startled, Mac searched for the other presence in the room.</p>
<p>Hadrian Potter, a young Englishman that had started working in the Lab about four months ago. The man had shown up in his office with top grades from Columbia and a slew of commendations usually found on well-seasoned soldiers. Commendations that, to Mac’s consternation, he didn’t have clearance to be able to receive a more detailed explanation of. In spite of this gap, the visible scaring on his forearms and neck that surely continued beneath his clothes, told part of the unknown story.</p>
<p>He was also a Sentinel, bonded to his wife, with two children. Physically, many would probably underestimate him because of his lean build, but Mac took notice of the muscles hidden under the loose clothes and the controlled and economic movements. He also remarked that, although his classification was undisclosed and he projected only a mild presence, Potter was certainly high-order. And that could have proven to be another sticking point. Not that two high-order Sentinels weren’t capable of working together (they weren’t animals, slaved to their instincts), but it could become uncomfortable quickly. In their case, it was liable to incite clashes of dominance during the giving of orders and other leadership situations.</p>
<p>However, even with all this possible complications before him, Mac decided to give him a chance. Aslan had sat quietly on a corner without a hint of alarm, and Mac had learned long ago to trust his spirit guide’s assessments.</p>
<p>And so it went. Potter became Hadrian and Harry as he integrated seamlessly with the team. He managed to be the best at keeping Danny calm and stop him from doing something rash. He discussed sports with Don and talked in Greek with Stella. Sometimes, Mac forgot that there was another high-ranked sentinel in his territory. Hadrian projected a constant sea of harmony and a silent reassuring safety, never aggressiveness and boisterous crowing. (Don, late one night, laughingly compared the two of them as very similar.)</p>
<p>But right now, Hadrian’s eyes were zeroed in on their homicide victim with startling intensity. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that the man had zoned. His first layer was of a very controlled calmness, one intended not to broadcast his change of mood. However, Mac felt a vague mix of grief and nostalgia brushing against his shields.</p>
<p>“… I also found traces of this metallic powder all over her right side of her clothes.”</p>
<p>“Thank you Sheldon,” said Mac, as Stella grabbed the evidence.</p>
<p>As they were reaching the lab, Mac started to lag behind.</p>
<p>“Mac, aren’t you coming?” asked Stella, a hand already on the door.</p>
<p>“Go ahead. We will be right behind you.”</p>
<p>Stella looked him in the eyes searchingly and then stepped inside, after glancing briefly at Hadrian, who gave her a nod.</p>
<p>Mac let a few seconds of silence pass and then faced Hadrian.</p>
<p>“I know that we have a tendency to want to stick with a case that we start. But I need to know if there is something in this case that should have you step away.”</p>
<p>“No, Mac.” He sighed.</p>
<p>“Hadrian, I felt something in that morgue, no matter how much control you have. This was the first time that you reacted like that since working here. I have to think that this case has something.” Mac stepped closer, calmly, with a steady gaze, making sure that this conversation had no flavour of intimidation or challenge. “…if you knew her, even just superficially…”</p>
<p>“It’s not that!” he interrupted.</p>
<p>The Brit then sighed and looked in the corner of the eyes. Mac stayed put, waiting. When the young man got like this, Mac theorized that he is communicating with his spirit guide. Although they never have shown themselves to the others in the Lab, that he knows of. After a minute, Hadrian pinned him with his brilliant green eyes full of emotion, his voice even.</p>
<p>“I have a sister.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Mac prompted, conversationally. (Not that he knew about the sister, seeing that the younger sentinel was notoriously close-mouthed about his personal life. He decided to store away the information for another time.)</p>
<p>“That girl down in the morgue,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper. “…is one of my worst nightmares come to life. There was a time in my life when… I don’t know her, Mac. She doesn’t even <strong>look</strong> like my sister, I just see her in that dead body.”</p>
<p>And before he could even think how to respond to such heavy revelation, Hadrian changed tack.</p>
<p>“I am capable of continuing this one.” He declared, heartbeat steady, confident notes.</p>
<p>Mac assented and let the subject drop. Not for the first time, he wondered what lay hidden in Hadrian’s past. He hoped that someday he would have fostered enough trust to receive such confidence.</p>
<p>For now, they followed Stella into the Lab, where work was beaconing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At lunchtime, Don showed up with food and updates.</p>
<p>“I brought the brother in and asked him some questions about the guys you identified.” Don said between bites. He also gave him a pointed look so he would start eating, which he did – one does not argue with his Guide, Don had decided long ago to embark on the ‘take care of his Sentinel’ mission like a veritable mother hen.</p>
<p>“The boy, Max, clamed up pretty quickly. He was so full of guilt and grief that I don’t know if he could manage to say a word even if he tried.”</p>
<p>“Do you think he was involved in Sarah’s murder?”</p>
<p>“Falling in with a bad crowd and that somehow spilling over to her, sure. Max getting in trouble and the straight and arrow sister trying to get him out – it’s possible. He being directly involved…, nah, I doubt it. But he knows something.”</p>
<p>“What did the foster parents say?”</p>
<p>Don made a face.</p>
<p>“Paul and Melissa Rogers. He is a truck driver and she is a kindergarten teacher. They foster three kids at the moment. They didn’t seem to care much. Didn’t waste any time to aim every sort of suspicions to his head.” Mac could hear the disgust in his Guide’s voice. It was well known that Guides were especially protective of the young of the tribe.</p>
<p>“The social worker, a Mrs Fry, is on the same boat. The boy doesn’t seem to have any defenders. The prejudiced cow is supposed to protect the minor’s interests, but she seemed ready to throw him to the wolves. Just because he is a foster kid and black doesn’t mean she gets to ignore her job description. Another cop might have taken advantage easily.” Don ranted, waving his arms. “No wonder the kid asked for another.”</p>
<p>“Wait.” Mac interrupted. “Max Knowles asked for another social worker? Is that normal?”</p>
<p>“Nope. He even asked by name – a Miss Ivy. He didn’t seem to have ever met her, he probably heard about her mouth to mouth from those in the system. Mrs Fry turned really sour when the request was made. I decided to throw the kid a bone, so I called over there. It was the damnedest thing, Mac – they knew exactly who I was talking about, I never been patched through so quickly. The woman was quite willing to come, I’m just waiting that they let me know when she gets in.”</p>
<p>Mac lifted an eyebrow at this peculiar description and took a sip of the herbal tea pushed his way with a dark look.</p>
<p>“I’m curious about what made her so well known amongst those that usually distrust social workers.” He commented.</p>
<p>“You know, funny thing: her last name is Potter, like your Harry. And I think she even had a British accent. It’s a crazy coincidence.”</p>
<p>Something inside Mac seemed to clatter. <em>It was just a coincidence</em>, he told himself. It just rung weirdly because of Hadrian’s earlier disclosure.</p>
<p>“What? What’s with the face, Mac?”</p>
<p>Mac grimaced and decided to confide in his Guide. He described what happened in the morgue, his observations, and the subsequent forced explanation.</p>
<p>“Damn.” breathed Don. “What on earth must have happened to that guy? I wonder if he sees himself in the brother?”</p>
<p>Mac blinked at that observation. Don had such a front that his insightful view on people often caught many off guard. Even Mac, though rarely, was guilty of such. And this casual pondering indeed explained quite a bit of Hadrian’s overall posture all morning. He had felt like a curious mix of crusader and protector. An anxious energy had surrounded him in all his movements, a jittery drive, like something extremely important was at stake to solve this case. Mac even felt himself swept up in it once in a while, Aslan fading in and out sight under the work table, like he was trying to call attention to something. (Stella, for all that she was mundane, definitely felt a share of the tension, and sent them alternate worried looks, but refrained from asking, for now.) It seemed obvious now, in hindsight, that if he saw his sister in Sarah, he could see himself embodied in the brother. (Hadrian certainly didn’t seem to consider the possibility of Max’s involvement at all.)</p>
<p>Mac massaged his forehead, trying to stave off a headache, tiredness was building up, and it was only early afternoon, he wondered if he could use this argument with his Guide to obtain another cup of coffee. He liked when the team worked like a well-oiled machine, the cases were well-solved and everyone could go home early. This case was shaping up to be anything but simple, mainly because of the mysterious half-rogue sentinel that he has slowly become fond of. It would not be easy, but Mac <strong>wanted-needed</strong> to know what danger lurked in the shadows that bred the idea of his sister’s death as such stark prospect. His protectiveness was rising slowly but all-encompassing, he just didn’t know where the enemy lay. And he had to extract such information from a well-trained, tight-lipped, high-order Sentinel – <em>easy work</em>, he thought sarcastically. He just hopped it wasn’t as complicated as Danny’s past.</p>
<p>“He appeared very focused in Sarah’s account and in her library card’s history.” Mac remembered out loud. “The account I can understand, there was some unexplained money and some movements that don’t match up. But…”</p>
<p>“…what does that have to do with borrowed books form the library.” Don completed, equally perplexed. “Were there some… I don’t know… suspicious books…?” he quizzed, half-jokingly.</p>
<p>“The only anomaly was the sudden interest in Law books. Maybe she was considering changing her major.” He hypothesises.</p>
<p>“I don’t think so.” Don counters. “I talked with her friends, and according to them, she was fully committed to her projects and was on track to graduate early with the amount of classes she was taking. They said that they hardly saw Sarah this semester. The girl almost didn’t have time to sleep, never mind – . Mac, when did this curiosity for the Law start?”</p>
<p>“About four months…” Mac leans back on his chair as realization descended on him. “As did the unexplained money.”</p>
<p>“About the same time as the urge to finish schooling quickly and the acquiring of a second job.” His Guide added. “It seems your Mini-me’s instincts were spot on. Something happened around that time, and that is probably related to her murder.”</p>
<p>“Whatever it is, Hadrian seems to have an idea.” He sighs. “I should have another conversation with him, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to do it when he is so unsettled.”</p>
<p>Don sends him a fond look and a half-smile that appeared to be reserved only to his Sentinel. It never ceases to make Mac vibrate in his own skin. In the early days of their bonding, that look managed to have him blush and squirm.</p>
<p>“It’s still strange that you’re so in tune with Harry, even with my shields all wrapped up around you. Are you sure he is not…”</p>
<p>“No, I’m sure.”</p>
<p>It was a mystery that Mac and Don have debated several times in the privacy of their flat.</p>
<p>When they had bonded, they were consolidated as an Alpha pair, and as such, a pride started to form around them without any particular premeditation or planning. It was a fact that Alphas attracted others from the community to them, even latents. And with time, a structure and the connections of a pride would start to develop. It may well be an archaic form, that in the past was essential for survival and in some places was even a ruling or warrior structure. However, the urge and the benefits of a pride hadn’t disappeared, especially in public service professions.</p>
<p>In Hadrian’s case, however, things hadn’t unfolded in the expected way. There was no connection in place, or the potential for one. It was like he already belonged to another pride. But, if that was so, the link they felt with him and, especially in Mac’s case, the hints of his emotional state he sometimes caught and a certain protective feeling geared towards the younger sentinel… it had no reason to be. It was a contradiction, a push and pull that he and Don didn’t understand, but they hadn’t yet reached the point of talking about it with the Alphas of New York.</p>
<p>Their ruminations over the empty lunch containers were stalled by a soft blip coming from Don’s pocket.</p>
<p>“Alright, Miss Potter just arrived at the precinct.” he declared standing, after checking his phone. “Do you wanna tag along, Sentinel? To satisfy your curiosity?”</p>
<p>Mac wordlessly got up, a rumbling purr echoed in his ears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They arrived at the busy station with the cold air chasing them inside. Mac instantly adjusted his senses as Don reached out subtly to his wrist to ground him. It wasn’t really something necessary, but Mac had quickly understood that this was an affectionate gesture from his Guide – it wasn’t about need, but comfort.</p>
<p>“Hey, Watters.” Don called out.</p>
<p>The sentinel was busy at his desk, but looked up immediately at the voice of his approaching Alpha. His elbow almost striking down one of the many cups of coffee littering between folders and sheets of paper. Something inside Mac shivered confronted with such a mess.</p>
<p>“Flack.” He acknowledged.</p>
<p>“I was told the new social worker had arrived.” He half-asked, half-demanded.</p>
<p>“She did.” He confirmed, side-eying Mac, as if expecting the sentinel to take the reins of the exchange. Mac ignored him, this was his Guide’s domain, there was no earthly reason for him to butt in like a controlling beast. “She was taken to just outside the interrogation room – ”</p>
<p>“What? What is it?” pushed Don, seeing the hesitation.</p>
<p>“The other one that stayed with kid was ran out of here after getting a good and proper lecture. Something about duty and procedure and following up complaints or somesuch.”</p>
<p>“She got a suspension for her troubles as well.” Added Kaile Maka, from behind them.</p>
<p>“Were they so loud that everyone was listening in?” asked Mac.</p>
<p>It was a legitimate question. Sentinels by norm weren’t running around with their hearing amped up. It wasn’t feasible for ones’ sanity, for one, or practical. And second, it wasn’t very ethical either. So, if they were listening in on the situation, there had to be a reason.</p>
<p>Watters mumbled something about ‘noisy guides’, his attention already on his desk.</p>
<p>“The new one is a Guide.” Confirmed Maka. “Very well shielded, but she projected a bit of her displeasure and anger.” Needless to say, that a possible Guide in need brings up a Sentinel’s instincts faster than almost anything. “Good luck with that one, Flack, she sounds like a firecracker. Detective Taylor, one of yours is already over there, the new one.”</p>
<p>And off she went, out through the door, without a chance for another word. Mike Watters was mumbling under his breath, ignoring their presence. The station buzzed around them like a busy beehive. Mac and Don exchange a look. Their suppositions may well turn out to be true. Mac wondered how much more complicated this was going to become, or if it would actually help clear up part of the mystery.</p>
<p>Without another word, they went in search of their co-worker and his potential sister.</p>
<p>They found them in the corridor, just outside the room where Max Knowles was put in. Two dark-haired heads that turned when they heard them arrive, their low conversation abruptly stopped.</p>
<p>Mac vaguely observed that they <strong>must</strong> be brother and sister. The young woman had the same bright green eyes, for all that the shape was more slanted than rounded. The black of her hair was only a shade darker and its unruliness lent itself more to curls than messy waves. Her built was as slight, she was even shorter than Hadrian, but her presence was equally filling. The woollen dark green dress made her scrutinizing eyes even more eerie and the white ribbons pushing her heavy coils back displayed prominently the same fine aristocratic features.</p>
<p>By his side, Mac heard Don’s surprised intake of breath and a mumbled curse. He felt Aslan brushing against his legs like a big cat, almost solid.</p>
<p>Hadrian stilled, his eyes were more animal than man, his face seemed carved from stone. With telegraphed movements, the younger sentinel stepped away from the sudden object of his attention, but nevertheless positioned himself between the bonded pair and his sister, every muscle tight - a coiled spring ready to jump at the slightest need.</p>
<p>All of this Mac took notice, in an absentmindedly sort of way. Like he was submerged in water and all the sounds sound muffled and all the gestures look sluggish. Everything, every fibre of his being was focused on the only female in the room. Her slightly upticked heartbeat drummed in his ears. The smell of ancient lush forests and of a crackling campfire filled his nostrils like a thick cloud. Green descended on his vision, as if all the other colours had bled out through cracks and fissures, and the world became a monochromatic painting.</p>
<p>It took him precious minutes to understand what was happening. For his brain to emerge from the numbing fog and kick-start. But when it did, <em>fear-confusion-indignation</em> flooded his system at an alarming speed. He took a step forward without realizing, using his body to shield his Guide. His voice though, took the rumbling quality of the bowels of a mountain.</p>
<p>“I already have a Guide.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Brothers and Sisters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Don reflected philosophically that today was gonna be one of <em>those</em> days.</p><p>It had started simple enough, with a phone call just before dawn about a body in an alley. But between then and now, the world had become topsy-turvy.</p><p>Mac had tried to hide it, but his concern for the Sentinel that was-wasn’t from their pride had reached an all-time high, the bone-deep tiredness seeped through their bond like a leaking faucet.</p><p>Mac was an Alpha through and through, a good one. Not because of his strength or his dominance, but because he wore the cloak of leadership and all its duties like a second skin. His territory, his pride, his Guide, were his to protect, not to control - such a thing would never cross his mind. The tribe was a real concept, not something to pay only lip service to, and that’s why he was such good detective and above all, a good person. If you managed to earn his love and friendship, well his loyalty and affection were endless and unrestrained. So, if Mini-me was so restless because of some details surrounding this case as much as Mac described, of course his Sentinel was torturing himself, racking his big brain to decide when and how to approach him, and going backwards and questioning if he <em>should</em> press him.</p><p>Don liked Harry, for all his quirks and silences. He was a cool guy to share a beer with, even if he didn’t talk much, or to catch a game with once in a while. He thought it funny how much he could see in him of his own Sentinel, and how Mac didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. When Mac had told him of his new hire, he had feared that the new guy would start throwing his weight around and undermining his Sentinel’s peaceful team. It certainly had been a relief that, despite his high level classification, he didn’t seem to care to dispute Mac’s place and even supported him in his own quiet unobtrusive way. That he was a likable guy was just a bonus in his eyes.</p><p>Harry also wasn’t one of those traditional sentinels that thought that guides should be going around chained up to their sentinels, sacrificing their own careers and ambitions for their bonded’s. Neither through actions or words did he betray such thinking, to him or Danny, either at work or outside of it. (If he had, Don would have put him in his place real quick, he wouldn’t have been the first or the last. It was another reason why Mac got along with Harry so well.) One of the times that he and Danny had invited him to shoot some hoops, they had touched on the subject. <em>‘Sentinels who need their guide constantly at hand and foot are weaklings.’ </em>He had snorted. ‘<em>My Daphne would have had my balls if I tried to drag her to the Lab. Bonded pairs should be partners, not a relationship based on some kind of dependency and subjection.’ </em>So Don was happy that there was another good sentinel loose in the world and another guide enjoying such commodity, and didn’t questioned him about the silvery scars that were even more visible with a sport’s sleeveless shirt on. (And if he noticed that some of them looked like they were made by a belt, he swallowed his anger and fussed over his pride a bit more than usual for the next few days.)</p><p>Seeing Mac so torn up about his new team member, Don had decided it was time to throw him to a distraction, since one does not simply say to Mac Taylor that he needs to take a breather and take five. So, this social worker requested as one asks for a favoured ice cream flavour seemed like the perfect cue. At least it was new, something they didn’t get very often anymore.</p><p>What he really got, was a big damn surprise.</p><p>Mac halted abruptly in the dim corridor, like his shoes were all of a sudden made of lead, their bond vibrated. Don felt some alarm starting to rise, because Mac’s senses almost never suffer such extreme fluctuations, so good is his control and so rigorous is his exercise routine. So unusual, that Don felt his well-built shields start to fray.</p><p>He felt Harry’s calculated caution and his extreme surprise as he slowly inched away from the other Guide in the room, an intelligent move, to avoid complications. They did not need two high-order sentinels going at it.</p><p>The Guide, who Don decided was behind all this nonsense, was taken by a stillness, not one borne of fear, but astonishment. A silent river held by a dam, bubbling and ready to rush forth. In the shadows he thought he saw a spirit guide prowling between her legs and the big handbag that she had dropped on the floor. Its shape was faded, but Don would guess it to be a panther or a mountain lion. Nothing in her face or emphatic profile seemed to indicate that she had attempted to use psionic energy to batter against Mac’s shields. Indeed, the partial lifting of her barriers showed her to be in some kind of amazed trepidation stupor.</p><p>Don wrapped his shields tightly around his Sentinel to try to stabilize him and extended his own on an investigation trip to figure out what exactly had happened. Surprisingly, his shields were almost <em>eager</em> when he loosened the reins.</p><p>His train of thought was derailed when Mac moved, a predator on a hunt, adopting a classic position that Don had long ago dubbed as ‘caveman-it’s-mine-don’t-touch’. (Don silently applauded the Guide for not stepping back, Mac could be a scary fucker when he wanted. And now he so wanted.) It was not, of course, his favourite pose. He was quite capable of using his own weapons to defend himself, be it by fist and gun, or laying down the buggers with his own damn mind.</p><p><em>“I already have a Guide.”</em> His Sentinel growled.</p><p>Before he could protest or try to defuse the situation, the words died a swift death in his mouth. He finally <strong>understood</strong>. Mac’s senses weren’t going haywire, they were <strong>imprinting</strong>. And Don’s own shields, they were keenly reaching and trying to envelope the Guide in the bubble that has only ever been <em>Mac-and-Don</em>. Somehow, he and Mac had found a perfect match in this young woman. Something that should be impossible. It didn’t make any sense.</p><p>But now it wasn’t time for thinking. Mac felt a little bit of feralness around the edges and looked ready to jump in and start biting. The train wreck was leaving the rails. Don pumped their bond with reassurance and grabbed Mac’s wrist in a loose hold. Opposite to him, the Guide (his guide?!) managed to get Harry to stand down and didn’t try to use her fledgling connection to soothe Mac, which would have backfired spectacularly. (Good. If he has somehow impossibly started a bond with another guide, at least it was an intelligent one and not a ninny.)</p><p>“Mac, come off it man. Look at our bond, the guide isn’t trying to take you away from me, she connected to us both.”</p><p>At the sound of his voice, his Sentinel relaxed a little and actually seemed to start using his brain cells, for he felt a tugging in their bond. (Many, especially guides, looked askance when he didn’t use the ‘soothing guide voice’ when his Sentinel was in need. Don always snorted at their well-meaning condemnation and ignored them.) He felt the exact moment that Mac realized that his perfect match was in fact matched to them both. His shoulders actually dropped and his stare went from ‘fire and brimstone’ to ‘what the hell are you’ – big progress. The Guide – Ivy (he should really start calling her by her name, shouldn’t he?) returned the gaze evenly, letting him scrutinize her, neither predator or prey.</p><p>Don was about to break the impasse and finally ask how such a thing could happen, now that his Sentinel was in control, when all their attentions were stolen by approaching footsteps.</p><p>A rookie, mundane, coming from the bathrooms if he didn’t miss his guess, had looked in down the corridor and came face first with their strange tableau.</p><p>“Is everything alright, sir?” he asked, hesitantly.</p><p>“Everything is fine, officer. You can go back to work.”</p><p>The boy did so, looking over his shoulder when he rounded the corner. It occurred to Don that with all the outpouring that they must have done, at least some members of the community that littered the station should have had come look in to see what was going on. By the look on Mac’s face, he was thinking the same thing.</p><p>When the last of the footsteps had faded, they were back at staring at each other. Strangely enough, it was Harry who broke the standstill.</p><p>“Ivy, did you just…” his voice trailed, there was bewildered flavour to it, and something else he couldn’t quite name.</p><p>“It seems so.” she said, her accent more clear than it had been on the phone.</p><p>“I thought you said that this was something rare.” The last word sounded almost like an accusing whine.</p><p>Ivy sent him a look so dry that he could almost feel it itching his throat.</p><p>“It was implied that with our Potter luck, the odds would be a bit askew.” She said with wry archness.</p><p>Harry’s face did a pretty impressive contortionist job, settling afterwards in a sour grimace. “Draco is going to hold this over your – <strong>our</strong> heads for years, you know that, right? And this time, it isn’t even my fault.”</p><p>“Well, how about you start helping your dearest sister and introduce your friends?”</p><p>During the exchange, he and Mac had stayed side by side in bemused silence, watching the snark competition unfold. Now they saw themselves under the observation of two sets of intense green eyes.</p><p>“Fuck.” Expelled Harry.</p><p>It was almost funny, since Don doesn’t remember ever hearing the sentinel swear.</p><p>“We would appreciate it as well.” Said Mac, with an announcingly throat-clearing. “And an explanation.”</p><p>But Harry didn’t seem to have heard him, the words flying right over his head. “You matched with my boss, Ivy.” He whirled around, waving his arms in his own private freak out.</p><p>“My boss.” He babbled on. “My Alpha Sentinel, New York bound, No-Maj, Marine boss.” </p><p>Don felt his eyebrows fly up at that description.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“How are you so bloody calm?” he grumbled with exasperation, although his own composure looked to be returning.</p><p>“Only one of us can freak out at the time. The world may implode otherwise.” Ivy shot back, in a manner of a private joke between siblings.</p><p>Harry chuckled, ran his fingers through his messy hair, rubbed his forehead and sighed to the ceiling like a tired old man.</p><p>“Ivy, these are Detectives Mac Taylor and Don Flack. Gentlemen, this is my sister, Ivy Potter.” He introduced, waving his hands in a flourish. And then he fell on one of the chairs, as if that simple task had exhausted him.</p><p>“Pleased to meet you.” Ivy said, in her prim and proper <em>Britishness</em>.</p><p>Nobody extended their hands to shake, obviously.</p><p>“Right back atchya.” Don answered, unwillingly a bit amused. “Another time and I would be asking all sorts of things about tight-lipped Harry over there. But right now…, mind telling us why we asked for a social worker and got a second guide. Because I’ve never heard of someone matching with a bonded <em>pair</em>.”</p><p>“I know.” She grimaced. Her expression was startling similar to her brother’s. “It’s… not something common or even uncommon really, because it only happens to a… certain kind of guide.”</p><p>“Ivy…” Harry had straightened himself up in his chair and was pinning his sister with a forceful gaze. <em>“You are not a freak.” </em></p><p>Those words seemed to have some important meaning. Like a motto repeated several times over. Don didn’t like what that implied. Not at all. Going by the clenching of Mac’s jaw, his Sentinel didn’t like it either. And he was probably reviewing everything he had learned over these months about Harry and fitting this one up in the picture.</p><p>“I know, Harry.” Ivy soothed. “Just different.”</p><p>“So…, like a switch Guide? Is that a thing?” Don asked, trying to stop the awkward tension and to understand what they were working with. She certainly didn’t feel completely like a Guide, now that he thought about it. He probably went a bit out of the left field in the tact department by the look that Mac sent him.</p><p>Ivy actually seemed grateful for the redirection – another point for not being squeamish and sensitive.</p><p>“I will explain everything when we go down to the Centre, the Alphas would actually be able to corroborate…”</p><p>“<em>Everything</em>?! You will tell them everything now?” Harry’s voice was surprised and fearful.</p><p>“I have to, Harry. It’s only fair. When it was you and Daphne, she already knew, she was even involved. But they don’t have any idea –”</p><p>“Ivy…! You can’t possibly think… it’s a perfect match…”</p><p>“Nobody ever refused a perfect match.” Mac summarized what Harry flounderingly trying to spit out. “I already have imprinted three senses and I suspect that the urge to bond is not overwhelming only because Don is managing it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Don confirmed. He was using his shields to keep them both in control, but the first layer of their connection with Ivy slipped through them flawlessly. “It’s a pretty strange situation, but we can deal with it. Me and Mac are already looked weird because we don’t exactly act like a conventional bonded pair, so you would just be joining the party.”</p><p>Of course it wasn’t as simple as that, but Don wasn’t lying either. He and Mac already went through much together and become stronger for it. The ability to care what people, strangers, thought, had disappeared along the way. They hadn’t spoken of it, but their feelings were on the same wavelength – Ivy, impossibly or not, felt like <strong>theirs</strong> already, and one of the things he and Mac had in common was how they hold on to their people.</p><p>Ivy nodded, but her expression was pained. He was starting to think that this wasn’t just about the strange kind of guide that she was, but about whatever it was that put the scars in Harry’s skin. (He started to think about what he would do if she had those scars as well, then redirected it into planning contingencies for Mac’s reaction if she did.)</p><p>“Just… don’t decide without all the facts.” Cautioned Ivy. Then she took a deep breath and regained a brisk and professional tone. “Alright, there is a boy in there who asked for my help. I would like to do this interview first and start his process rolling before we go solve any of this. Anyone has any objections?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry rested his forehead on the one-way mirror, letting the brief coolness sweep through him. He felt a headache coming down. He looked briefly to the boy on the other side. Noted the grief and rage etched on his skin, his helplessness and guilt, and swallowed bitterly. It could have been him, with about the same age, sitting on a police station after identifying Ivy’s body, because there was no-one else to do it. Because no-one else cared. Because a good sister wouldn’t stop until her brother was taken out of a horrible house where he was being <em>hurt</em>.</p><p>Harry looked away, before the memories threatening to drown him rose to the surface. It would do him no good to fall apart now, to no one that depended on him – he could break down later, late at night in Daphne’s arms, purge himself and hope for a night without nightmares. A soft low trill echoed in his ears, he felt Rosamund’s claws digging on his left shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Right now he needed to support his sister.</p><p><em>‘Call Draco. He doesn’t have court today. I’ll need waivers.’</em> Ivy had asked in a low tone. Harry took out his phone and took the coward’s way out.</p><p><em>Ivy matched with my boss and his Guide. Preliminary bonding. Needs full waivers ASAP.</em> He texted.</p><p>He heard Mac entering behind him and closing the door. Don’s voice informing his sister about the case and the prior interview with Max became muffled. The room was well-isolated. Ivy probably already knew everything, or more even, from what Harry had told her before the pair’s arrival and by taking a look at Max Knowles’ file before coming in. Harry knew she was paying attention more at what was being said and how it was delivered than anything else.</p><p>His phone buzzed repeatedly, which meant that Draco was having his own freak out. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t called. Having a Slytherin losing his cool on you was never pretty. He decided to take a look to assess what <em>level</em> of panic the prima donna snake had fallen into.</p><p>
  <em>What.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>What have you done now</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I thought we agreed to no more Potter nonsense</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Don’t think I don’t know you are ignoring me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have to call the President. And I hate the bloody idiot. Worse, he <span class="u">hates</span> Ivy</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And the Centre. The Centre gives me hives</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You owe me!</em>
</p><p><em>Sounds about right</em>, he thought. He slipped the phone in his pocket without answering. His cousin seemed to be on track to put the necessary wheels spinning. Possibly also doing an even more in-depth digging on Mac and Don than the one made when he had started working in the Lab.</p><p>“Hadrian.” Came his boss’ low voice.</p><p>“Mac.”</p><p>He gave the man an onceover in the low lit room. Mac was on edge, he could see it, even if it was well-concealed. The bonding drive may have been diminished on the account that he was already bonded to a guide, but it was not non-existent. The thought of bonding led his mind down the rabbit hole, and he shied away from it – this was his sister damnit! He should focus on practical things, to make the situation easier.</p><p>“After this, Stella and I can take over the case. You and Don will be in no condition to do it, one way or another. I can even hold out a bit on the information front, if you want to be the one to tell her.” He offered, resolutely not thinking about what this would mean for the near future. Either he would have new in-laws with a lot of complications attached, or a stoically suffering sister. The world was full of shitty options.</p><p>“Is it the danger that your sister thinks will chase us off, or the unspecified type of guide?” Mac asked, his eyes seemed to want to dig the answers from Harry’s own soul. “Because as amazed as I am to have a surface bond to another young and brilliant guide that I don’t deserve, she already feels too irreplaceable, too bright, as much as Don, to let her go.”</p><p>It shook Harry a little to hear Mac open himself like that. But it wasn’t his private boss talking right now, he realized, it wasn’t even the Alpha Sentinel, but the man. Maybe there was something in talking in a dark room that made it easier to bare one’s soul. So he honoured such trust by answering in kind, as much as he could anyway.</p><p>“It’s not the danger…, exactly. It plays a part, of course, but the danger is lower than it was in the past.” True enough, but danger would never leave them completely, there will always be something around the corner. Potter luck was a double-edged sword. “It’s more about the duties that Ivy shoulders. A bonded pair, a true bonded pair, shares everything, so you would inevitably be dragged to her responsibilities. The last thing Ivy wants is to chain someone to a situation that they didn’t want, and that people she loves start to resent her.” He warns, carefully avoiding putting any kind threat in his voice.</p><p>Mac nods slowly, he seemed to be considering his words carefully. Good. Mac always struck him as someone who ponders things carefully, but when he makes a decision he never looks back. Flack as well, even if he comes off as more impulsive, though he was more the ‘life gives you lemons, make lemonade’ type of guy. Harry thinks on all that his sister had taken on, and ruminates that maybe these two would be able to handle it, for all that it seemed such a strange fit at first. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give Ivy perfect matches if they couldn’t deal with all that she is, could it?</p><p>His depressing thoughts were snagged by Mac’s voice.</p><p>“I would have expected you to be threatening… something by now. I have no experience with sisters, but I have dealt with Don’s relationship with his enough times.”</p><p>Harry smiles wryly. Mac was on a fishing trip, in his typical inconspicuous way he used on those of his pride.</p><p>“I want my sister to be happy.” He answers honestly, his eyes straying minutely to the boy behind the glass. “Ivy has been too much alone. If you and Don can give her what she needs, then I’ll be happy, and nothing else matters. And that will only happen if you make the decision consciously, so I’ll not coerce you one way or another.”</p><p>“Fair enough.” Mac assents. “And for that, we need to hear <strong>everything</strong>.” He stresses the last word as Harry had done minutes before.</p><p>“Yeah. Just… don’t treat me differently – ” then he corrects himself. “Too much differently after you hear all of it.”</p><p>“I’ll try.” He promises, and really, it was all that he could realistically promise without knowing anything.</p><p>A few seconds tickle by and then Mac speaks again, this time his tone more close to the boss that he is used to.</p><p>“I’ll let the case in your and Stella’s hands if you tell me what it is about this one that set you off.” He was about to protest, when Mac raises his hand and explains. “I need to be sure that you are not compromised.”</p><p><em>Fair enough</em>, he sighs.</p><p>“First it was just a coincidence. Brother and sister, orphans, alone against the world.”</p><p>“And then?” He prods.</p><p>“Then… then Sarah’s various calls to the social worker, to a lawyer, the law researching, the money, her involvement with the neighbourhood bullies…” he sighs. “My sister acted somewhat the same way when <em>I</em> was the brother that needed to be saved.” Harry faces Mac’s gaze full of slowly dawning comprehension. “The difference is <strong>my</strong> sister managed to get me out and not be put on a morgue’s slab in the process. It could have easily been the other way around.”</p><p>Silence greeted his disclosure. When no objection came, Harry took that to mean that his offer had been accepted.</p><p>Harry turns and sees Ivy and Flack filter into the interrogation room. Sees his sister sit down next to the grieving boy with a kind smile and a polite and respectful introduction. He sees Max loosen some of his despair, can almost taste his relief and the fragile trust he is offering to this new adult that entered his life. It was interesting, how universally Ivy’s kids – as Harry had taken to call them – never seemed to react adversely to her unique psionic profile, as many do. <em>Maybe it’s because they sense innately that she is there to make war <strong>for</strong> them.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>You wanted to know</em>, thought Mac to himself.</p><p>He has only received a glimpse of the story, but already he could deduce more only by the choice of words. If those thugs that they had identified were characterized as ‘bullies’, what kind of violence had Harry and Ivy been exposed to? Exposed to and survived. And by the slight bitter way he summarized their travail, they did it mostly by themselves. Many had failed them, adults that were supposed to protect them. Maybe that was one of the reasons that led Harry to chase justice for the dead and driven Ivy to cloak the most vulnerable of the tribe with her protection.</p><p>The ugliness of humanity is not something he is inexperienced with. He is confronted with it every day and has learned to deal with it. He had come to terms with Claire’s senseless death with the help of Don’s steady support. But now, something new was going to challenge him. A guide already burrowed deep inside him that has suffered, someone or someones had deliberately caused her pain. His ire and protectiveness were already mingling and rising like a tide, without he even knowing the extent of it. In this, Don, who was becoming as attached to the pretty, feisty guide, would only stoke the fire instead of blanketing it.</p><p>This new window into Hadrian’s past clarified some matters. The tie of brotherhood that he had developed with Danny wasn’t only because of their close age, but also about difficult teenage years and violent home lives. Little things like always making sure everyone ate sufficiently, the way he carefully assessed entries and exits and the times he jumped at a loud noise and a sudden movement – they were all signs of a bad childhood.</p><p>The door opens, and the relief is easy to spot on Max Knowles’ face when the new unknown person introduced herself. Don, maybe by Ivy’s request, lets her take the lead.</p><p>“Right. Before anything else, Max, have you eaten?” she asks calmly, sitting in an open relaxed manner in her chair, her hands loose over the table.</p><p>“Yea –, yes ma’am. A cop brought me some lunch a while ago.” His expression was so bewildered and wistful that made Mac wonder when was the last time an adult demonstrated such simple care.</p><p>“Good.” She said briskly, making no case over the reaction, no kindly sympathy. “You can call me Ivy if you’re comfortable with it, ‘ma’am’ makes me feel a bit old.”</p><p>Max responded with a brief half-smile and a low acquiescence. Ivy seemed to take that as a victory and didn’t force any more confidence, more words or more eye contact.</p><p><em>So this is what a social worker that has been in the system and learned from it looks like. And maybe</em>, he looks at the man beside him, <em>also</em> <em>experienced with dealing with defensive and wary brothers.</em></p><p>“Mrs Fry is no longer responsible for your placement. Because of the errors she made with you, she will be suspended, all the children she was responsible for will be checked over and she will be brought before a board to decide if she can continue to work in her current position.” Ivy informs the teen.</p><p>It was not an attempt of consolation or of apologies. It was a calm pronouncement of justice, delivered because he deserved to hear it, because he was <em>owed</em> it. And that, to children that sometimes were forgotten, that were lost and were never told they deserve anything good <strong>that,</strong> was gold. Given the slight shaking of his hands and the rawness in his eyes, Max felt such recognition keenly.</p><p>“Th-thank you.” He swallows dryly. “My sister, Sarah tried to tell her about the Rogers, but she never listened. I had given up, but Sarah called several times and even wrote proper letters, she said that way they would be filed and maybe someone would notice.”</p><p>“Your sister was very clever, and all that will be used in Mrs Fry’s review.” Mac got the sense that Ivy wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she stayed put and maintained her steady honest gaze. “I’m sorry you lost your sister, Max, and I’ll do everything in my power to honour Sarah’s last wish and get you a good home. You will not be returning to that house again.”</p><p>Mac could see that amidst the shipwreck of sorrow and anguish, a little bit of hope was taking root. And then he wondered how Ivy managed to do this job unbonded, as high level as she certainly was. Did she have a sentinel co-worker that helped her when needed? Did she rely on her pride to steady her when things got too much?</p><p>“Alright.” Assented Max.</p><p>To Mac’s ears, it sounded like a boy accustomed with disappointment and broken promises latching onto a lifeboat with his last strength. He glances at Don, his Guide is waiting patiently for his turn and watching the proceedings with interest, respect and admiration vibrated through their bond by watching Ivy work.</p><p>“Alright.” Repeated Ivy, as if sealing a contract.</p><p>“Max,” she then continued. “you’re not here as suspect to be interrogated. Detective Flack,” she nodded in Don’s direction. “is one of the detectives working on your sister’s case, and he needs your help to find the one responsible for her death. He needs to know what Sarah was doing and who she was meeting with these last few months.”</p><p>“It wasn’t her fault!” was the answering outburst. “Sarah was good. I didn’t want her mixed up in any of it! But everything was getting worse, and nobody was listening…! I told Sarah that I could hold on a bit more and maybe the Rogers would pass me on to another family, but…”</p><p><em>“…she was a good sister.”</em> Hadrian whispered sadly beside him.</p><p>“Nobody here is going to judge Sarah.” Promised Ivy.</p><p>“Even if she was involved in something illegal because she was trying to help you, right now she is a victim, and I’m trying to catch who did it and bring them to justice.” Don supported earnestly.</p><p>Max looked at both the adults, searching for some kind of sign that he could trust them. Then he took a deep breath, whipped some of his tears, and started talking.</p><p>After he started, with Don’s gentle prodding and Ivy’s solid comfort, the story unfolded in bits and drabs. He talked about his foster parents’ neglect and abuse and his sister finding it out in one of her visits. He talked about how his foster father was involved in some kind of shady dealings and how the thugs would threaten and beat him as a message to him. He described how Sarah tried to get the police involved and nothing was resolved, and then started paying them to leave her brother alone. How she then took a second job on a lab that she didn’t like very much for some reason, to continuing the payments and to try to get custody of Max.</p><p>It was a heart-breaking story, of a sister who did everything right, but got no help from the system who should have supported her. Ivy and Don made a terrific team. In between the recitation, Ivy whipped out of her colourful handbag tissue papers, a bottle of water and a tupperware with homemade cookies (Mac wondered amusedly if that was some kind of Mary Poppins’ bag or a social worker toolkit of her own invention). Don had snagged pen and paper for Max to write names and addresses that he could remember so the teen could feel he was doing something concrete for his sister.</p><p>In end, everyone involved in that interview was exhausted.</p><p>“If she was pissed off with Mrs Fry before, now she is spitting fire.” Murmured Don in Mac’s ear when they returned to the hallway.</p><p>“Can’t blame her.” Mac responded back, his gaze focussed on Ivy, who was having a whispered conversation with her brother. “If people had done their jobs, this death might never have happened.”</p><p>After that, the three of them, as good professionals that they were, spent some minutes putting their affairs in order, even though the urge to bond was starting to press even more. Mac had to make an enormous effort to keep himself from tracking all of Ivy’s movements and her lilting voice, he didn’t even try to supress his focus on her heartbeat, it was one of the things that were keeping him sane. He and Don had each other and their stable and robust bond to hold on to, he had no idea how Ivy was maintaining her tight grip on her shields.</p><p>The case was passed on to their colleagues and a nebulous number of the days were taken off for a nebulous S&amp;G reason – yes, their superiors were really happy with the pair that they were used to being as regular as an atomic clock. Stella was more difficult to placate and he predicted that she was going to thoroughly interrogate Hadrian later.</p><p>Ivy did the same, in an equally vague explanation. Then she forcefully reported Mrs Fry’s suspension pending auditing and dictated detailed instructions for Max’s situation for while she was ‘unavailable’, with an implicit threat of what would happen if they somehow screw it up.</p><p>When they entered Mac’s car for their trip to New York’s main Centre, by unanimously choice they surrounded themselves with silence.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Grey Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The New York sky seemed to reflect the uncertainty of Ivy’s future. Hovering grey clouds threatening a possible downpour and a timid sun peeking between.</p><p>Uncertainty and powerlessness were things that she was used to dealing with. During great part of her life, they seemed to be her only constants. So she had learned. She had learned to power through it, learned how to control what she could control and blithely accept what she could not. Taught herself to play the game of chance and odds, to roll the dice and deal with what came after. Harry had once said that it was her determination, her strength of will that, even when defeat seemed obvious, wouldn’t let her admit that they had lost. There was always a tomorrow, there was always an horizon, even if it was filled with dark clouds and thunder. Giving up, that, only brought death.</p><p>But this, this was different somehow.</p><p>There was no stacking the deck to leverage the results of the gamble. There was not one more pile of research books or more practise time that would maximize the odds for success. There were no eloquent words and wily speeches that would try to conduct the situation the way she wants it. The dye was cast, the facts were what they were, there was only plain speech and a whole lot amount of luck and prayer left. And the relationship between the Potters and any kind of metaphysical entity was never quite easy and straightforward. </p><p>Ivy looks at her matches out the corner of her eye from the backseat she insisted on occupying. They were beautiful, and, despite the tiny little orphan girl inside who doesn’t let herself hope that good can happen, Ivy can’t help but <em>want</em> them. Physically they were attractive yes, but inside… The fact that Harry, wary and reticent Harry, talked in a complementary way of them had already clued her in that his boss and his guide were good men. But meeting them… gods… She had almost been blinded by their golden cores of protectors and their beautiful strong bond, they sang to her like a siren. Quite frankly, the seductive pressing of their instinctive fist-level bonding only came two seconds after, she had seen and felt <strong>them</strong> first, not the Sentinel and Guide. And that made it more scary, because it was more than an imperative and a biological match, and if things went wrong as she expected…</p><p>No matter how much perfect matches were rare and coveted, Ivy knew how many handicaps she was lugging around. She didn’t regret any of them, wouldn’t give them up if she could, they were part of her. And they may well be the cause of sorrow and heartache in the near future. If the magic thing didn’t freak them out too much first.</p><p><em>What is, is</em>, she repeated in mantra. There is nothing she can do to stop this probable train wreck, she just has to survive it.</p><p>“So, you know the Alphas well then, for them to know about whatever it is that you need to tell us?” Don asked casually, cutting the silence, his eyes looking her over with appreciation and curiosity.</p><p>Ivy felt a smile sketching itself on her face. She was seeing again traces of the persuasive gentle interrogator who she had met in that room. She takes no offense, at heart Don Flack is a police officer, and she can’t condemn him for being himself.</p><p>Mac, who was guiding the car expertly through the New York traffic, tensed and the slight twist of his head showed he was interested in the answer as well.</p><p>Ivy paused a few seconds, to ponder how to best explain it and to introduce gently the topics of import that she would have to convey.</p><p>“Because of their background and the position they hold, Guide O’Shea and Sentinel Thomas have clearance to… know certain things.” Unspoken was the fact that Morgan O’Shea, as a descendant of a squib line, already was informed a great deal about what was hidden from common sight. “As a matter of curtesy, Harry formally introduced himself and disclosed his presence and that of our pride when we came to New York. For practicality’s sake, I likewise informed them of the possibility of the Centres being approached, mainly by low-level individuals of our community and some sensitive mundanes, about an adverse reaction to me. Some of our pride also has volunteered to help when needful, so we also crossed paths sometimes.”</p><p>“Clearance?” “Bad reaction?!” Mac and Don asked simultaneously.</p><p>Ivy sighed and decided to answer the last one, even though she was still somewhat sensitive about it – might as well get it over with.</p><p>“The more sensitive mundanes, they get a bit twitchy, like something isn’t right. The ones of our community, mostly lower-level and mid-level guides, feel bothered by my emphatic profile. The degree of abrasiveness varies, from the ones who simply feel uncomfortable in my presence, to the ones that think there is something wrong, some corruption leading to dormancy.”</p><p>“You’re certainly not dormant! Or corrupt!” was Don’s immediate reaction, his body contorting itself around the seatbelt like a particularly lively snake. “You feel a bit different, but nothing like corruption!”</p><p>Mac didn’t utter a word, but his muscles were tense and he was projecting quite a bit of meanness, like he was ready to go hunt down everyone who had dared to say or even just <em>think</em> such a thing.</p><p>Ivy felt momentarily regretful for her bluntness, one should not provoke a Sentinel immersed in bonding drive. In a flash, his aura levelled to an edged calmness.</p><p>“No, I’m not.” She confirms, a little more forcefully that she wished. “But the truth is that I do not rate as a Guide, but other. I try to keep myself well shielded and tapered, but it’s not full proof and there can be flare ups. It’s sound logic to inform the local centre. With the New York Alphas, I could go into more details.”</p><p>“Because they have clearance.” Mac states flatly. “Clearance that I didn’t have on Hadrian’s job interview.”</p><p>Yep, Ivy sighs. It’s still a sore spot for the sentinel. Ivy remembers Harry telling them how frustrated the detective had been.</p><p>“Technically you still don’t have clearance yet,” she warns. “You only receive it through… bonding.”</p><p>She says the last word carefully, eyeing them, especially Mac. It’s also not a good idea to taunt with such words at this stage.</p><p>“Uh. You seem to be stuck between a rock and a hard place then.” Comments Don.</p><p>Ivy grimaces. “Not if I get NDA’s.”</p><p>“And has this Draco person managed it?” asked Mac. It didn’t surprise her that he had heard it, the man must be straddling the line of hyper-focus for two hours now.</p><p>“Draco is my cousin and a pain in the arse sometimes,” she says fondly. “but he is a bloody good lawyer. In fact, I should ring him to see if he has them.”</p><p>Relieved to have an excuse, Ivy fished out her phone and dialled Draco (if Mac happens to overhear a stray word that he shouldn’t, well, Potters were never exactly unknown for their rule-breaking).</p><p>The phone rang three times and then her cousin’s voice came alive.</p><p>
  <em>“Malfoy speaking.”</em>
</p><p>“Draco, it’s Ivy.”</p><p>The vague rustling of paper stopped. Ivy could almost imagine him straightening up on his office chair.</p><p>
  <em>“Ivy. Where are you.”</em>
</p><p>Oh dear. Draco was almost reduced to monosyllables. That only happens when he was so stone cold furious that words become unimportant, or when he was so overwhelmed with concern that the power of speech failed him. Ivy feared that this time it was a case of both situations acting up, something that muddied up the waters a bit.</p><p>“On my way to the Centre with my… matches.” She informed, using the cue to warn him of the presence of super-hearing.</p><p>(It was a toss-up if Draco would follow such warning and use his careful worded discourse or if he would simply pointedly ignore it – Morgana knew her cousin was a Malfoy, a Black and a Slytherin, neither one of them were known for being the law-abiding sort, more of the law-bending and don’t-get-caught variety. Nobody was surprised when he decided to go into Law, almost everyone was surprised when he chose to practise Family Law.)</p><p>
  <em>“Huh hum, and is there a reason why you are not locked up behind doors going at it like rabbits?” </em>
</p><p>Out of the corner of her eyes, Ivy saw Mac clenching his hands on the steering wheel, Don looking at him in concern.</p><p>“Draco, I asked you for the waivers for a reason.” Sometimes her cousin could be tiresome.</p><p><em>“Yes, because you Potters are bleeding hearts and self-sacrificing idiots, it’s what you are.”</em> Draco ranted, Ivy sighed and let him get it out of his system, it was his way to show that he cared. Don now could probably hear him as well. <em>“I thought there was salvation when your brother had the good sense to bond with Daphne, Salazar knows why she chose him. Their children probably have a chance to have a bit more brains and self-preservation. But now! You go and get matched to two adrenaline do-gooders…”</em></p><p>“Gods, how long did it take you to check up on them?” she chuckled without humour, rubbing her forehead.</p><p>
  <em>“I put Theo on it, of course. It only took half an hour.”</em>
</p><p>“Of course. You guys are such Slytherins…”</p><p><em>“Of course we are Slytherins, you were there."</em> Draco says plainly, his tone questioning her intelligence levels. <em>“Do you really think we would let you bond with a couple of men without looking them over, at least to make sure they are not murderers or good for nothing bastards… We made a godsdamned vow to…”</em></p><p>“Draco. Draco!” she interrupts. “Did you get them?” her voice hard as iron.</p><p>There was a second’s pause when Draco recognize the authority in the demand. <em>“Madison’s office left me dangling for almost an hour, the pretentious Yankees. Then lots of hemming and hawing that amounted to nothing, and he says no, end of discussion.”</em></p><p>“Ah. Might have been because I called his predecessor a ‘stubborn-isolationist-prejudiced-heartless-coward’.”</p><p>There were twin snorts and a chuckle from the front seat.</p><p>
  <em>“Where was I when that happen?! You people really are horrible at diplomacy. I thought you had taken more after the Blacks – ” </em>
</p><p>“Need I remind you that the Malfoys are the ones that exceled in diplomatic arse kissing, our Black side of the family were more apt to smooth-talking and turning around and do whatever they wanted. Sometimes they weren’t even <em>subtle</em>, but no one dared – ”</p><p>
  <em>“Never mind that. I started pushing things around, calling some favours… there are plenty of aurors over there that are disgustingly in love with you and –”</em>
</p><p>“Forget it. We won’t give MACUSA the satisfaction of going around begging. We should move this to international waters.”</p><p>
  <em>“You want to contact Geneva?”</em>
</p><p>“No.” she sighs. “I don’t want to storm the teacup that much. I thought to go to their America rep. Can you get me the number, or should I ask Theo?” she teases.</p><p><em>“Who do you take me for? Of course I can get you the number. Bloody Potters.” </em>And Draco ends the call.</p><p>Ivy closes her eyes and tries to draw strength from her bonds. She never thought it would be so difficult to hold off the bonding imperative, even with all her training and experience. And for some reason, she thought that it would be different with her – if such a thing improbably came to pass – because… well, because the rules didn’t exactly apply to her, did they? Her shields are quivering, they want to reach out, they want to grab on the fragile but already robust fledging bond and <em>push</em>, push everything she is until there was no end and beginning to distinguish the three of them. And only her rational will is holding back the tide, who is rising and flooding and unyieldingly wearing down the defensive boulder ring. For Morgana’s sake! She’s already sounding poetic in her own mind.</p><p>“Your cousin sounds a bit… prickly.” Comments Mac, he was looking at her from the rearview mirror.</p><p>Ivy lets out a pleasant laugh. “I could say that it’s because of the situation… but the Black family tend to be a bit over-dramatic. Thank god I have two generations between me and them.”</p><p>“The family you described as scumbag politicians or some kind of mobsters?” asked Don.</p><p>“You know,” she snorts. “the description kind of fits, without the ‘or’ in the middle.”</p><p>“Don…” Mac warned.</p><p>“It’s alright, Detective Taylor. We don’t exactly hide who they were, we acknowledge the good parts and the bad parts and move on. At least my grandmother and Draco’s mother were some of the white sheep of the family.”</p><p>The pair exchange blinking gazes.</p><p>“It’s Mac. There’s no need to be so formal with us.” Mac offers. “And we will try to hold off the questions until you don’t have to tip toe around the answers.”</p><p>Ivy felt relieved for that assurance.</p><p>“Thank you, Mac. I don’t want to lie, I won’t, but I can’t say much yet, and I prefer to say everything than throw around some bits and pieces and then have to fill around it.”</p><p>“Well, you’re lucky that Mac and I know a thing or two about confidentiality agreements.” Ivy smiles in thanks for the support. Even though they are treating her a bit like a skittish mare who is going to bolt at any wrong movement, she doesn’t resent it, she is too full of too many emotions. “Just tell me you’re not in some kind of protective custody and we haven’t compromise you.”</p><p>“What…?” Don’s question threw her. “Alright…, I can see how you would come to that conclusion, but no, I’m not in protective custody or witness protection.”</p><p>And some of their tension seemed to leak out of their bodies, she felt relief from their bond. Mac took another turn and then spoke up.</p><p>“Hadrian told me some things before the interview started.”</p><p>“He did?” Ivy and Don asked in stereo.</p><p>“Hadrian said that when he was young he was in a house where he was <em>abused</em>.” The end of the sentence was spit out with clenched teeth. “He said that you got him out. He didn’t elaborate more.” He said the last sentence more to Don than to Ivy.</p><p>Ivy was surprised. Harry certainly wasn’t the defensive and neglected boy that he had been, mainly because Ivy wouldn’t let him go around mopping and then Daphne hit him with her big blue eyes until he started to unburdened himself and letting go of the past. But he wasn’t in the habit of advertising what had happen, the past was a scar that had scabbed and healed and was not worth revisiting.</p><p>“I just…” he continued. “I just need to know that those… people… were punished.”</p><p>Ah. Ivy and Don exchanged glances, having reached the same conclusion. Sentinels are protectors. And although Harry was an equally able sentinel, that belonged to another pride, Mac Taylor couldn’t help but considering Harry one of his. It made Ivy love him a bit more.</p><p>“The monsters are behind bars, sentinel.” Ivy assures him. “And before that happened, I made sure they were ruined, financially and socially. Harry might be a bit too forgiving and willing to just forget about it and move on, but I sure inherited some of the viciousness from the Blacks. They got to live their worst nightmare – exposed to the world how abnormal they were before being locked up.” Even now, after all those years, the thought of the Dursleys still filled her with hot-red rage and the feeling that they got away too easy. If she knows Daphne as well as she thinks she does, she would bet that her sister-in-law is already planning something for when they get out.</p><p>“Good.” If Mac’s voice was more a growl than anything else, the guides ignored it.</p><p>“People think it’s the sentinels they have to watch out for, when we guides are really the most scary.” Snorted Don.</p><p>“People are stupid.” Ivy summarized succinctly.</p><p>Ivy and Don trade a complicit look, as they reached a level of understanding.</p><p>“I’m going to have my hands full with two of you, aren’t I?” Mac comments fondly.</p><p>Ivy feels her throat closing up and opens her mouth to refute such certainty, for the sake of her sanity if nothing else, when her phone buzzes. It’s a text with a number and a name, <em>Mark Jauncey</em>. Ah, probably a descendant from one of the Original Twelve. <em>Let’s just hope he doesn’t have a big sized ego because of it.</em></p><p>“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.” Ivy informs.</p><p>Ivy takes out another phone from the bag, one she designated for boring mind-breaking politics’ work.</p><p><em>“Mr Jauncey’s office, Tyler Johnson speaking, how might I be of service?”</em> a young voice came through just before the call fell.</p><p>“Mr Johnson, my name is Ivy Potter, and I have a need to talk urgently with Mr Jauncey.”</p><p>“Do you have an appointment ma’am?” he asked distractedly over the din of regular office noises.</p><p>“No – ”</p><p>
  <em> “I’m sorry, but Mr Jauncey is very busy and is only attending previously scheduled engagements, I can fit you in for next week on – ”</em>
</p><p>At this point Ivy felt her patience starting to fray, her frustration and tiredness aiding it.</p><p>“Mr Johnson!” She interrupts. “Do you recognise my name?”</p><p>There was a two seconds’ pause and the suspension of rustling paper.</p><p><em>“Yes, ma’am, I do. I’m sorry, but Mr Jauncey is really – ”</em> his voice took a higher note and a nervous quality to it.</p><p>“If you know my name, Mr Johnson, you should know that when I say it’s an emergency, I mean it, and I’m probably underrating it. Now, I want you to go find your boss, and pass him the phone.”</p><p><em>“Yes ma’am.”</em> He squeaks.</p><p>Ivy made a note to herself to apologise if she ever came across the boy again. It was not his fault the damn sky seemed to be falling on her head.</p><p><em>“Miss Potter, I am told you had an emergency that needed my attention.”</em> Jauncey had a deep voice that rolled in smooth notes of a veteran politician.</p><p>“I need two waivers for the Statue of Secrecy. Expediently.” She blurts out.</p><p>There was an astonished huff and a silence on the other end. Ivy herself sighs, maybe she should have asked Draco to make the call, it seemed that any diplomatic capacity she possessed had webbed away.</p><p><em>“I’m sorry, but may I ask why?”</em> Ivy translates that from politician idiom as ‘what the fuck did you just say?’. <em>“The Statue is pillar of our communities. Those waivers are not given out lightly, certainly not in America. And those requests are usually deal within the appropriate department in MACUSA – ”</em></p><p>“Mr Jauncey.” She interrupts when the man didn’t seem to be stopping any time soon. “I know how important the Statue is. Grandfather Ralston was the one that knocked most heads in Britain to convince people the merits to sign it. Aunt Isabella was there when the first text was drafted. I even have a copy of the original in my library. I <strong>know</strong> its importance and its legal substance.”</p><p><em>“Indeed ma’am.”</em> He says in a condescending tone. <em>“Then surely you must realize what you are requesting is quite difficult. Even with your accolades and your privileges, you must see I can’t make exceptions.”</em></p><p>“Listen, I was matched almost three hours ago, Mr Jauncey. They are No-Majs – ”</p><p>
  <em>“They?”</em>
</p><p>“– and I’m trying to follow the law to obtain permission to talk about things that I legally can’t but need to say.”</p><p><em>“But, certainly, Miss Potter, there is no need for the waivers after a bonding. There is a clause </em>since<em> the first text about it.”</em></p><p>Ivy exhales and looks to the car ceiling. She can feel the intrigued looks traded between her matches. She doesn’t even try to speculate what kind of deductions are being made.</p><p>“Yes, I know that. But I need to tell them <em>before</em>. And no, it’s not because I’m special and want to have my way. Because in my case, it’s not just about the Secret. It’s not even entirely about the fact that I am a Potter and what that means, which extends way beyond <em>privileges</em>. It’s about the reality that I don’t wear just blue and black, but also white and red, and what that means for anyone bonded to me!”</p><p>The silence lasts two long minutes.</p><p>The man clears his throat. <em>“You are correct, Miss Potter. I was not thinking about the situation and was letting prejudice and resentment clouding my judgement.”</em></p><p>“I apologise as well. I am a bit unsettled and I shouldn’t have been so abrupt.”</p><p>
  <em>“There is no need. Allowances are made because of your… delicate state and my rudeness. We Americans have been acting as affronted, but in truth, we are mostly ashamed, because we didn’t honour old debts and old treaties. We only sent help late and not enough, and our world is free and at peace thanks to your actions.”</em>
</p><p>“Sir, I – ” started Ivy, feeling touched by the acknowledgement.</p><p>
  <em>“No, no, it’s quite alright. A man sometimes has to receive a proper lecture… And I needed to hear this one. I shall not continue the trend of refusing help to the Potters. I will prepare the two waivers right away and send them on. Where exactly do you want…”</em>
</p><p>After a brief settling of details, the call was ended.</p><p>A dull throb of light bursted through the clouds.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments, suggestions and constructive criticism are appreciated.</p>
<p>Til next time!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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